


Such a Light

by thalialunacy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Magic, Summer Pornathon 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crime-scene is a dubious place to find love. But Merlin has a talent, and Arthur has a skill, and life is far beyond their control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such a Light

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are spoilery and therefor are in the End Notes. This is a short punch of a piece written for Summer Pornathon's week 6 challenge, which was 'Light and Dark.' The title is a bit from Vaughn Williams' _Hodie_.

The detective, the one Merlin's not worked with before and whose name is—Pender? Pentman? Penthouse? Merlin smirks against his camera. That would be fitting.—He flinches at the first flash, is the point. And then even at the second, bursts of light firing across the crime scene like the bullets that had killed their Mrs Smith, who is currently laid out across her living room rug in a rather extensive pool of blood.

"They warned me about you," Pen-whatsit growls. "Point that thing away from me, please and thank you."

Merlin doesn't lift his head from his camera. "Then quit standing right round the body, thank you and please."

"Oh, good, a clever crimescene photographer. Very helpful."

"So I'm told. Now move." The detective glares at him. "Please?" Glares some more. "Your Highness?"

Pen-whatever throws up his hands, but does as requested. When he brushes past Merlin, he's not gentle about it, but instead of feeling put upon, Merlin feels like a spark has jumped into his veins.

He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and goes back to work.

\---

Merlin's never been sure if it's him or the camera. He got the camera when he was in sixth form, but then his mum died and everything went a bit pear-shaped and he's just never been sure.

He doesn't really care, to be honest. It pays the bills, it's a fun parlour trick, it occasionally even gets him laid.

Speaking of… He hears his latest rumbling around in the kitchen. Toby? Was his name? Merlin is so bad with names. They're so arbitrary, so meaningless.

Faces, though, he never forgets. Shades of grey that show up in his pictures—He pulls one out of the developer, studying it. The victim is a pristine white, surrounded by the usual 'Oi! Dead/dying/nearly dead person here!' halo of red, so he rules out suicide and any sort of wrong-doing on her part. He's not expecting anything else, so he's surprised when his routine examination reveals a framed set of photos on the mantel. The people in it—beside and around the victim—are so dark they nearly explode off the page.

Black sheep, indeed.

Not taking his eyes off the picture, Merlin picks up his mobile and swipes at the screen.

"Pendragon."

"Arthur," he says, voice rough with excitement. That name, somehow, he remembers.

"What."

"I have a lead for you."

\---

But they don't get there in time, and Merlin ends up taking pictures of a teenage boy with half a face and his compatriot in arms with a severe lack of heart—literally—and an absurdly surprised expression.

Arthur promptly leaves to find himself a bottle.

\---

And at the bottom of it, he finds Merlin.

\---

"It wasn't your fault," Merlin murmurs into the hot skin of Arthur's neck. Arthur won't listen, but Merlin says it anyway, says it again, and more, while he fucks into Arthur from behind, because Arthur doesn't want comfort, Arthur just wants the rough slide, the taut muscles and clenched fists, the feeling of Merlin's hand in his hair, at his hips, leaving bruises. Pulling tight.

\---

Afterwards, when he sees Arthur fwumped down on his back, cock limp and satiated, skin glistening and warm, Merlin gets out his camera.

"Is that the same—" Arthur gestures at it, a slightly grim look on his face.

Merlin shrugs. "It does the job, doesn't it? Now shut up and let me photograph your gorgeous self without having to deal with the accompanying personality."

Arthur rolls his eyes, but puts his hand behind his head and stretches out, languid, well-fucked. And Merlin takes far more pictures than he should.

\---

Merlin's in his darkroom the next afternoon when his mobile rings. "Yeah," he says absently, about to put the first of his post-coitus pictures into the last rinse.

"I've found something."

Arthur's voice is so excited, Merlin immediately looks up. "Yeah?" He swishes the print around, wondering—

"Yeah, it's—Oh, shit, Merlin, I—"

"Arthur, what—"

Bullets sound nothing like flashbulbs.

Merlin's phone falls into the rinse with a splash, and he stares numbly down at the print, now fully realised:

Arthur, in Merlin's bed, naked, gorgeous, white as driven snow— and surrounded by a halo of red.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Violence. Character death.


End file.
